Connected
by Domani
Summary: When Matthew is called to New York from his Ontario home he finds his brother being questioned, but the twin refuses to talk. Matthew must slip into his brother's mind and find why things have reached this point.
1. Sequence 1

The checkered tile floor seemed wrong to his eyes as his trainers crossed over several squares. It made this walk seem all the longer as the polished shoes of the officers at either side of him clacked loudly. Heart was racing too quickly. He had to settle down. This wasn't the time to panic. He'd worked so hard with acting for so long. Now to finally put all that to use.

The room he was led into was small with a few chairs and a water cooler. A broad man stood near a glass and there, on the other side of the window, right **there** was his brother. He moved faster than his thoughts could and hands went to the glass. Alfred was bloodied and exhausted looking. Not like the pristine boy he remembered growing alongside for so many years. The officers let him press against the glass, giving him space for this moment. Alfred found himself moving and, despite the weight of the cuffs against his tired limbs, he lifted his hands to touch the glass. His forehead pressed against the glass and, despite the barrier between them, the twins were connected. An officer sucked in his breath. One muttered a stunned curse. And the large man placed his hand on the boy's shoulder as Alfred was ushered back to his seat.

"So glad you could make it, Mr. Williams. Sorry to call you down from across the border."

"Not at all… Why is my brother like that? What is going on? No one has told me much of anything." It was everything to keep his voice level.

"How about some coffee? You guys like double-double, yeah? 'Ey Mike, fetch the kid something to drink!" The man drew a chair closer to the boy and straddled his own.

Matthew sat and looked at this man, older with a broad large nose that seemed to have a crook in it. Must've been broken. The eyes gazing a him weren't too different from his own, only more narrow from age or ethnicity. He was Caucasian, of course, but definitely not American born. Round face and a slightly pudgy belly, he smiled for a moment at the fitting stereotype, and thick limbs. Muscular limbs. This man seemed to be in his thirties and was quite a bit bigger than the blonde. Heh, blonde. This man's hair was ashen, whiting him out even more, the pale bastard. A file was placed in Matthew's hands.

"I need you to look through that and add whatever statements you can. Boy won't talk for nothing and we need something. So how about it? Thanks Mike." Coffees were extended and the man handed Matthew a cup for himself. The dialect was hidden under years of forced English. Slovak? No. Maybe a derivative of Russian. Could be from the former Soviet Union.

He merely nodded to the man, eyes catching on scars beneath the blue collar, the man's neck a criss-crossed nightmare. He dressed like a businessman rather than a cop. How odd. Disregarding him now he went to the file. Opening it he noted an older picture of Alfred against the new one. This image was from graduation. Alfred had sent it to him with a copy of his diploma demanding his brother do the same. The separation had been hard, but they had done so well until a few months ago. When did Al stop calling?

"Tch." Matthew made a sound through his teeth and shook his head. Male, BB, Height 5' 8", Weight 190lbs. 190? 1-90? How had Alfred gotten so thin? He had never been below 250 since middle school! BB… blonde hair blue eyes? Yeah, sounded like cop lingo.

"Why do you have me looking through this? What are you hoping I'll find, mister?"

"Braginski. And, Mr. Williams, you're his twin. Get inside his head, if you can. I'm even willing to make copies of this file. This is confidential, of course, but we need some input."

Alfred was being stubborn and they hoped the twin could see what he had been thinking. Well, what could he have done to be here?

_I have to see what he sees. Feel what he feels. Come on Alfred, let me in… _Alfred was moving out of Mom's. He had graduated and could finally go to college. So proud of his scholarship for photography. So excited.

_What was your first day? Halls right? Lots of rooms and getting lost. You complained about that when you called me. You were in a dorm room._

The door flung open and for the first time blue eyes spied the tiny room he'd share with his roommate until they died.

"Name's Alfred! Mind helpin' me with all this? I'll help you if you help me!"

There had been an Englishman in that room. And green eyes flicked to Alfred's face as a picture slipped unseen into his pocket. A girl and her data. As well as her price. Arthur Kirkland seemed clever. And those clever eyes saw profit standing in his room.


	2. Sequence 2

"Alfred? Charmed, I'm sure. I'm Arthur and I beg pardon if I'm not very helpful. I've already gotten all of my things up here. Friends and all."

_The green eyes were mesmerizing. Like he was trying to read me. That's what Alfred had said, wasn't it? The boy was all dressed up too. Like someone with money. Black slacks, white short-sleeved button up. Made Al's denim jeans and Alien Invaders tee look silly. What next? The man helped him get the rest of the bags, right?_

The two blondes stood in the room huffing for a few minutes, Alfred laughing weekly. Arthur looked unaccustomed to work and Al felt guilty for a moment. Yet when their eyes met and Arthur was smiling he felt calm again.

"So, Alfred. You a local?"

"Nope. Born in Niagara Falls right by the border. Mom decided to have me in the car on American soil and, as we crossed over to the nearest hospital in Canada land, out came my twin. You're not a native either, right? Got the tea tongue and all that."

Alfred laughed, not knowing how rude he could be. But the man handled it well. He was nodding while trying to stifle a laugh. It was, he felt, amusing how this American spoke so freely. So trustingly. Like an innocent.

"I'm from England, yes. Not so blessed as you to have siblings though. How many siblings do you have, Alfred? Just the one?"

"Yep. My twin, like I said. I find he's more than enough as a sibling." Alfred's nose wrinkled when he laughed and deep dimples appeared in his cheeks with the broad smile. He was so like a child.

"Ah. Your family close by?" He asked innocently enough as he sat, Alfred beginning to straighten his things thought nothing of questions. To him it was normal to be friendly.

"Huh? Well, no. My twin moved up to Canada with Dad when our parents split. Mom is abroad right now, so I'm kinda stranded here."

_Why would you say these things to a stranger, Alfred? Don't you know any better? Did Mom not teach you anything after the split? Ah. No. You had to raise yourself, didn't you? Papa took good care of me, but Mom… She was the reason for the divorce. How lonely had you been?_

"Mr. Williams?" Matthew jumped at the sound of someone speaking and jerked his head up. Ah. The detective was still there.

"Yes sir?"

"Are you quite all right? You sort of dazed out here. Why don't you go home and rest for a while? We can talk tomorrow."

Matthew stood and held the file close, his gaze turning to the window, and he felt a moment of rage. Alfred wasn't in there. Dangerous eyes flashed to Braginski and the man's hand twitched, ready to go for his mace if needed. Those eyes were the same as the suspect's.

"Where's my brother?" The statement was sharp, angry, and almost a warning.

"He as taken to his cell. You were so engrossed in the file I couldn't get your attention."

His eyes eased and he exhaled somewhat loudly. Then the eyes softened entirely as he smiled sweetly.

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Braginski. Care to lead me out? I wasn't paying much attention on the way in."

"Certainly." Braginski opened the door and watched the boy walk out before following behind him.

They walked along the uncomfortable hall and Matthew looked at the doors. He noted how many there were and how many officers were here. So many. Hopefully no accidents would occur with his brother. That couldn't be guaranteed though.

Braginski escorted him all the way to the his Honda parked by the building. As Matthew climbed into the car he found himself annoyed how the man hovered.

"Yes?"

"If you think of anything tonight this is my number. Call me. No matter the time. Be careful, all right?"

"Sure." Matthew took the card extended to him and forced a smile when the door was closed. He drove off with the officer watching.

_You liked the first month of school, didn't you brother? We both were so excited, weren't we? Like the world was fresh again. Arthur was your greatest friend too, wasn't he? You two went everywhere together. What did you say about his friends though?_

"Art, can I skip out on this one? I won't know anyone and you have friends who will want your attention too."

"Don't worry Alfred. If I walk away I'll make certain my best friend is there with you. He'll watch you for me."

Alfred smiled now, more comfortable as he walked with Arthur to the two story home. It was already getting cold here and he sported a green hoodie over his old denim jeans. Arthur looked classy as always and wore a light coat, brown and soft, with brown dress pants and a blue polo. Why was he always so well dressed? Even to this?

Arthur was knocking at the door and a tall thin man answered the door. Al sucked in his breath, stunned by how pretty he was, and averted his gaze. Blue eyes, some hair growth along the squared jaw, and blonde hair falling in waves to the shoulders. Those pants held him tightly, skinny jeans, and beneath those were boots. The shirt was a button up and, naturally, the man had it undone halfway down. A locket hung from his neck, la mere printed across it, and Alfred thanked his brother's constant nagging. Mother. How classy. A grown man wearing a locket with mother emblazoned on its polished surface.

"Francis! A pleasure to see you!" He leaned in for an embrace and moved to kiss the cheek, hissing out a single question. "How's the Salty Water mix?"

"Well as always, friend!" The man smiled as they separated and answered as though it had been a more personal question. "Please, come inside! Who's your friend?"

"This one? This is Alfred, my roommate I've been telling you about?"

"Telling him about?" Alfred questioned shyly as they entered the home. Music and people, the place seemed festive enough for him to hide somewhere. Subconsciously he held the tail of Arthur's coat. Francis smiled at the sight.

"Yes! He spoke of your amazing photography. I myself collect stills like that. Please bring some by and I might buy a few."

"Oh! Thank you! I'd love to show you whenever!"

"Of course… Are you two thirsty? You walked here, didn't you?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just something fruity for us. Alfred and I aren't much for beer. Isn't that right Al?"

"Uh huh." Alfred kept looking at the images on the walls. Shit. Man had good taste.

They sat on a couch, laughing and talking as Francis leaned to mix drinks. A long thumbnail caught the seam of the locket and cracked it open, white powder falling into the drink. He added the second drink mix and stirred, carrying all three of their drinks. Given to the appropriate owner they settled.

_Francis was remarkable to talk to. You were enamored by how smart he was and how he and Arthur would subtly bicker. The drink was so sweet too. Like candy. Something was wrong that time though. What went wrong, Alfred?_

Alfred had to removed the hoodie, his body flushed and warm, and his black shirt clung to his skin.

"Alfred, love, are you all right? The drink getting to your head already?"

"Oh? Is he that much of a light weight? I even cut back on the liquor!"

"I'm s-sorry. I just feel hot." And sleepy. And heavy.

"I have a spare room. Alfred, you need to lay down, don't you?"

"Yes, please. I need to… to lay down." He was slurring. What was wrong with him?

_Arthur and Francis carried you downstairs into a room. It was cooler down there and the bed felt so good. What was wrong? Their hands felt good when they touched your face. You were embarrassed._

"Alfred, dear, what's all this mewling?" Arthur asked softly as he touched the bare arms. Alfred jerked and trembled, body too warm for his own taste. He was erect already. Needy.

"Arty… Please! Pleaaaaaaseee!"

"Your new pet is calling, Arthur. Are you going to neglect him?"

Arthur beamed and Alfred threw back his head when a hand cupped his groin.

"Fuck!" Matthew slammed his breaks and swerved, managing to avoid slamming into the rear of another car. Several angry honks went on behind him as he sat at the traffic light, body trembling. He was crying, his chest heavy, and anger coursed its way through his limbs. He didn't want to go farther than this.

OOC: Hello again for the second installment of Connected. There are a couple of things to define. La mere is French for mother. As for Salty Water? That's a slang term for a common date rape drug known as GHB (gamma-hydroxybutyrate). It's actually used to treat anxiety and physical stress. When used "correctly" for llegal purposes it works like a sedative. Slows the body, but causes solid erections which can last for some time. Inhibitions are lowered drastically and this drug can cause severe side effects. If overdose occurs it creates heart-attack like symptoms and shuts down the body. Ultimately leading to death. That's about all for now. See you next time!


	3. Sequence 3

When he was finally parked in front of his hotel he sat for several minutes, head against the wheel, and pondered what he was supposed to do. Try to ignore the sick feelings for one. Out of the car he went, feet dragging to the main hall, and then to the elevator. This small traveling box with its plain walls made him bite his lip. His brother was in a small plain room. Trapped. Was he scared? What had happened? In his hotel room and slung the file down onto the table, not caring for it as he went to the bed and flopped down on it. To hell with his shoes. He didn't care enough to even remove those. It felt like a slow madness in his head as he rolled onto his back. Suddenly he gasped and arched. Alfred had been laying like this for those men.

"Shhh. That's it. Just loosen up for me. Accept me." Arthur shuddered over Alfred, his face drawn tight from the sensations around his prick, and he shut his own eyes.

Francis sat against the headboard, Alfred's head against him, and the blonde held he arms down. Alfred was crying from how tight he was. There hadn't been enough lube. Had there been lube? He wasn't sure any more. Arthur was already thrusting about, talking to him, and Alfred wasn't able to understand anymore. His head turned to the side and he gave a sound of surprise. One of his arms had been let go as Francis undid his pants and freed his own erection. Foreskin. Just like Arthur. The moistened tip rubbed against his face and he shuddered. There was an odd smell that came with it; like built up sweat in creases of the body. Francis rolled the skin back from the head, the plump thing catching it and holding it back. Alfred wanted to protest, but cried out instead. Arthur had slammed in.

Francis had forced his way into the mouth. Alfred's eyes ran with tears, but despite the burning pain in his ass there was a separate burning. A warmth spreading through him that wouldn't stop. He gave a whimper as his head jarred forward, taking more of Francis in, and he relaxed his tongue to let it slide back without choking him.

"That's it, my dear. Arthur, this boy is perfect for my needs. He loves so openly." Francis murmured as he watched in fascination as his length disappeared into the bruising mouth.

"You aren't even here… He's sucking me in." Arthur's words wavered as he trembled, sweat collected in his brows as he worked his way into Alfred's innards, and he found himself curious. One hand remained on the pudgy hip while the other wandered. Alfred's startled sound was well worth it and he himself moaned when the rectal walls clamped down. They squeezed with the strokes he gave the boy's erection and made his swollen muscle ache.

_I'm choking, choking, choking, God! GOD! Stop stop stop I don't, he doesn't, we don't want this! _

Matthew thrashed on the bed, fighting air as he felt his body unwind suddenly, and his face felt hot. He had released. Just as his brother had in that moment. Francis gave a shuddering moan and grabbed the short blonde hair, fists balling, and his teeth grit as he pumped himself into the mouth. His seed came in short bursts and rushed down Alfred's throat. He gagged and whined, trying to flee, but where would he go? Arthur withdrew and took off the condom. His hand jerked his member until it all rushed along the length, spraying across the boy's body, and both men watched as I slid along the creases through Alfred's skin. The wrinkles in his pudge were making channels for the semen to rush.

The room was nothing but panting. Loud panting in their ears. In Matthew's ears. He rushed and went to the bathroom. Water running he removed his damnable shoes, filthy clothes, and stood in the show. Hands slammed against the wall under the showerhead and a sound left his throat. Like the quite whine of a newborn. It built up until suddenly broke into a terrible wail. His brother. His brother… Years and years they had never really been separated. It had been said that twins have an unnatural sense of each other and these two knew it. Why hadn't he sensed all of this when it happened? Why hadn't Alfred spoke? It took until this point for the younger brother to seek out his twin's thoughts.

Matthew had somehow sunk down the wall and sat in the center of the shower, water rushing him, and his knees were drawn up to his chest. Sobbing and sobbing. Rocking back and forth. Yet this wasn't going to fix it. No.

He was angry now as he left the shower, towel wrapped about him, and he went to his suitcase. As he gathered clothes he thought of what had happened so far. His brother had started school. He and Arthur had become good friends and well into the semester Arthur took him to a party. Somehow Francis put a drug into that drink. A drug strong enough to affect someone of Alfred's weight. For a moment Matthew smiled and tried not to laugh at the little jab at his twin's size. It wasn't fair on him right now. What next? What fucking next?

Fully dressed he went to his table and gathered the file into his arms. Things spread out across the bed he studied them.

"Francis Bonnefoy- Missing. Arthur Kirkland- Dead. Multiple stab wounds. Didn't die immediately. Jesus, that's not Alfred."

His tender-hearted brother. His clean and good brother who wouldn't even smoke a joint. What did these men do to him to drive him to this?

OOC: Hello again. So I'm sorry that this one is mostly smut. I didn't want to break it up into chapters and the building plot right in the middle. Honestly I haven't written sex except for RPs with my fiancé. Thanks for reading! See you in the next sequence!


	4. Sequence 4

Restless shifting alongside the constant ticking of an old grandmother clock against his wall to his left was all to be heard. The screen in front of him didn't really bring anything to his eyes, the man staring unblinkingly forward, and finally a blink came. He turned to face the old clock, watched it for a few beats, and shut his eyes to better listen. It was smooth and steady, like a strong heartbeat, and he felt comfort in it. Yet why did he need comfort? He was a detective. Strong and hard working he had traveled to this land and made something of himself. Why was this case so troublesome? Was it the age of the boy? Was it how quickly he fell from grace? And now here they were, a body in the morgue, one missing, and a suspect in a cell who refused to speak.

He needed to walk around. Get a feel of the world again. It hurt to walk as his feet had gone numb. Ivan winced and went to the break room, fetching himself some coffee, and wondered what he'd do. Well the mortician was out of his way so why not visit the stiff? He trod along the hall and went down into the basement of the building. Thank God Parson wasn't in here. The man hovered and smelled of his mother. As a mortician, Ivan wondered if this was a good smell to come from him, and often tried to avoid him. It was just plain disgusting. The filing cabinet had fresh files so he went pilfering through until he found the case code. File out he leaned back in the chair and intentionally placed his feet on the desk.

"Arthur Kirkland. WM. 5'9". BG. Twenty three. Cause of death multiple stab wounds. Oh really?"

Ivan wandered over to the wall of bodies and began to pull drawer after drawer. He slammed one shut a bit faster than he meant to. Burn victim. Ugh. Ah, there it was. The big toe had the label and he gladly pulled the sheet back. The chart in his hand made it easier to know what he was looking for.

The chart had images of the male form, front and back, and lines had been drawn to show the location of injuries.

"Two wounds deep in the thoracic region inferior to the collar bone. Only two inches apart. One to the cervical region left side. Another to the femoral. Three to the dorsal side ranging from the thoracic to the lumbar. This seems too random."

He looked down at the young man and felt loathing. This Kirkland fellow had been on their watch for some time. An informant had mentioned how many human traffickers were procuring orders from the area. Kirkland had been a prime suspect for this so no one was really upset about the loss. Yet murder was murder. The anterior wounds made sense to Ivan. Two sudden stabs to the chest and another desperate try at the neck. The three to the back and one thigh were just additions likely after death. They hadn't tried to clot like the others. Why go through so much trouble?

He covered the body again and returned the chart. Slamming the drawers closed he went back up stairs. To the holding cell now. With how late it was would the boy be awake? What were the chances he'd even say anything? Doctors had said it was similar to shock or post traumatic stress disorder. He had clammed to defend himself. That was not what they needed. The court surely wouldn't accept it as a valid excuse for murder. There was the cell. He stood outside it and set his coffee inside past the bars and stepped back. Alfred had been known to throw things. He was awake. Ivan could see the glint off his eyes from the emergency lights.

"Sorry to visit so late, Alfred. I was hoping we could talk for a while. By we I mean me running my mouth." Ivan tried to joke and took a folding chair from against the wall. Unfolding it he straddled the seat. Alfred had moved.

The boy sipped at the warm coffee and shut his eyes. Ivan felt himself smile despite his desperate attempt to not. It was good to see him calm and almost happy.

"I went to see your friend Kirkland downstairs. Cut him up nicely. I think he looks better this way, but whoever did him in could have at least trimmed his eyebrows."

Alfred had shot a dark expression to him from where he sat on the floor at the mention of Kirkland. Ivan was fairly certain the boy killed Kirkland, but he wanted it to be in self defense. Alfred would have been a prime candidate for trafficking. Foreigners loved the thicker American as the thin ones tended to be too frail for travel.

"Alfred. Why does he have all these?"

Several beats of silence.

"Alfred?"

"Where's my brother?"

Ivan stood suddenly. Alfred's voice was soft and timid, but very broken. The coffee must be helping, but still so sore. He had spoken finally! Finally!

"He went home. It's late at night and he came straight from Ontario to help you. He'll be here tomorrow, though. I'll let him visit you."

Alfred studied Ivan for a long time. He didn't understand why this man was always so nice to him. The others were always angry. They hated his silence.

"Okay. I can wait."

"But for how long? Alfred, we have to build a case and right now you're the lead suspect. I have to get info from you if I'm to help you out. I don't want you to go to prison for this." And it was true. He didn't want a child to go to prison for something he possibly didn't do.

Again Alfred was quiet. Ivan settled himself back into the chair and hoped he hadn't dried Alfred out already.

"You don't have to help me, Ivan. I did it."

"With what?"

"A knife of course. You stupid or something?"

"What kind of knife, Alfred?" Ivan watched as Alfred scowled. He obviously didn't like questions.

"A sculpting knife."

Ivan felt his heart pound. There was the truth of it. That right there.

"You didn't do it."

"What?"

"You didn't kill Arthur Kirkland."

"I just confessed to stabbing him! I did it!"

"A sculpting knife, Alfred? That wound was almost three inches deep! Those knives barely reach two! Who killed him Alfred? It wasn't you, so let me help you! Who did!"

Alfred was quiet. The conversation had come to an abrupt end.

OOC: Ivan makes notations earlier in this which I'll define for you. WM- white male. BG- Blonde hair green eyes. Thoracic- Chest area. Inferior- Below. Cervical- Neck. Femoral- Thigh. Dorsal- Backside. Lumbar- Lower back.

That should be all the notation in regards to this. Look forward to seeing you in the next sequence! Please feel free to review!


	5. Sequence 5

Matthew's clothes were as comfortable as possible for what would likely be a stressful day. His jeans were old and faded, his tee quite feminine with its polar bear face done in a cartoon style. Yes he needed comfort. He'd finally see his brother.

The officers scanned him for metal, pat him down in case there were any other hidden presents for their newest resident, and finally escorted him to the cell. A chair sat across from it and he swallowed hard as he sat in it. The officer left as ordered by Braginski. Matthew was at least a little grateful for the man.

Alfred was possibly asleep. Or maybe just dozing. He wasn't quite sure which so he gently cleared his throat. The blue eyes opened so suddenly he was somewhat startled. His brother seemed groggy for a moment before moving suddenly to the bars. His round face pressed between two, dirt smudges going onto pale skin, and Matthew blinked his eyes several times. He couldn't tear up now.

"How are you holding up, brother?"

"So far so good. I'm always hungry, but that can't really be helped, can it?" Alfred grinned impishly in an attempt to get his brother to laugh.

"We'll feed you when you're out. Braginski question you yet?"

"Last night not too long after you left. He was pretty gentle about it. Up until the end."

"What all did he want to know?"

"At first he just wanted to help me or whatever. I told him I did it with a knife. He asked what kind. Man's sharp. I think he's figuring it out."

_Of course he is. He reads people too well. Thank goodness he's a clean cop._ Matthew thought bitterly as he trailed his tongue along his teeth.

"What if we let him in on it, Al?"

"You think we can?"

"Arthur was an ass and being watched by the feds. His death is a good victory for this area. Maybe we can have him help us out. You know?"

Alfred was quiet for just a few beats. Why so quiet?

"He wants to help me. Seems to think I'm too young for this. Mattie?"

"Yeah bro?"

"Where's the knife?"

"I've got it in a plastic bag back home. They don't suspect anything yet."

"Of course not. You were in Canada. How could you possibly do it?"

Both brothers were smiling at each other and Alfred reached out through the bars, fingers stretching to his brother, and Matthew sank to his knees on the floor. He reached his own hand out and laced their fingers together.

"Your hands are cold, Alfred!"

"I'm all right. Don't you worry." Alfred always said that. He had said that before all of this. Look at how he was now.

Alfred's eyes hardened as he looked past Matthew. The boy turned his head to see Ivan standing there. His sharp eyes watching.

"I'm sorry boys. Time's up. Come on."

_You do see us as nothing but poor lambs, hmn Braginski? What would you do if you knew I killed that fucker?_

"I love you, Alfred. I'll visit tomorrow. And the day after."

"And the day after that? And after that?" It was like consoling a child.

"Y-Yes. And after that." They smiled at each other before whispering affection again.

Braginski led Matthew away and kindly pretended not to see the tears. They stung his heart something fierce. Gently he led him to his office and eased the boy into a chair. Subtly he nudged a box of Kleenex towards the boy before sitting.

"You know the routine. We'll fetch coffee or whatever else you need, Matthew. So feel free to ask, okay?" The boy simply nodded as he dried his face.

"Thank you, officer. I'm sorry. It's just hard to-"

"It's all right. You're young and this is hard for even the old. Don't worry." He glanced to his clock again. The pendulum swung loudly and even Matthew watched for a moment. They needed to talk.

"What can I do for you, Braginski?" Matthew was good enough to break the silence.

"I imagine you've looked over the file. What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Any of it."

"Arthur Kirkland was molesting my brother."

Ivan was stunned by the bluntness behind the statement, but what good would being gentle do now? He winced and nodded.

"We went through his things once we got the clearance. In his records he had been keeping Alfred for three months, training him for sex, and preparing him for sale. Apparently the buyer was Francis Bonnefoy."

"That's the missing guy, right?"

"That's right. We're still hunting for him."

"Mr. Braginski… I think brother and I need your help."

Braginski remained as still as possible. He didn't want to appear over eager. This was that one moment where the ice melts. If you come too strong you go under and it freezes with you down. Maybe they could get the current going again.

"What can I do for you, Matthew?"

"My brother didn't kill Kirkland. He can't even scold an animal for its wrongdoings. I know he's innocent."

"Look, you're tired and this is hard. Lets go get some breakfast somewhere. My treat?"

_You're too good to us, officer. I hope you keep this up._ Matthew nodded as he gave a tired smile. This was a beneficial move for him and quite clever for Braginski. By taking him from the office no doubt the man hoped to make him more comfortable to talk. And Matthew would talk all right. And he'd make certain to get what they needed.


	6. Sequence 6

Ivan's car was painfully simple. Not uncomfortable, but just- simple. It was an old station-wagon with soft cloth seats. Seemed like he was slowly restoring it. If not improving it. Ivan was talking to him and he politely gave the occasional sound to show he was actually listening. Yet he really wasn't. The conversation was too polite. Weather and traffic. That wasn't what he cared about.

"So this is the café. Pretty simple, I know, but the food has a real sort of quality to it."

Matthew was looking at the building they had managed to park beside. Yes, this was one of Alfred's known hang out spots. _Shit, Braginski. If you did this on purpose you just nailed me hard. You're too smart._

Matthew followed him into the restaurant and kept his head bowed. They sat opposite each other and he found himself feeling stranded in his booth all alone. Ivan filled his seat, both physically and with presence. He had no real presence. Not in this scenario, at least.

"Tell me about your brother, Matthew. What was he like before all this occurred?" He spoke around the waitress who poured stout coffee. Matthew wrinkled his nose at the smell and began to empty out packets of cream and sugar.

"Not too different from any art student. He was a dreamer and a best friend to anyone who needed it. He was always loud and fun, but at home he showed his shy side. He to make others happy. We talked on the phone every week. Sometimes several days in a row."

"Your parents separated when you were young, right? How'd that go?"

"Papa took me up to Quebec. Closest thing to France without having to go back to France, you see. Mama kept Alfred. Mama…. Had problems. Sure, Papa had his own, but I think Al honestly hated Mama. If Al would kill anyone I would have thought it'd be her."

"Was she cruel to him? Abusive?"

"If you think that's why this happened you're wrong! Brother wouldn't kill! Sure, I said he might have her, but that's so different! Brother is a lover. Never been much for fighting… Mama was verbally abusive to him. Never really physical. Luckily she wasn't home often anyway. The bar was her calling."

Ivan had winced at the outburst, but behind those eyes Matthew could see how pleased he was. He thought he was working Matthew out. Unwinding him like a tightly wound coil. _Sorry Braginski. I'm unwinding you._

"You moved here, right Mr. Braginski? Do you have siblings?" Matthew changed the subject and made himself blink often. His eyes glassed properly.

"Ah, yes. I moved here from home. I have two siblings myself. An older and younger sister." Ivan swirled his coffee as the waitress brought a stack of pancakes to Matthew and a mess to Ivan.

"Then you must understand. How…. How hard it is to be away from family. How scary it is." Matthew bit his lip and tried not to laugh. Ivan's face over his own food was quite depressed. Yet then he looked to Matthew and his eyes softened.

"I want to help, Matthew. I know he didn't do it. I have no doubt of that. Please, what have you heard? What have you figured out?"

Good. Ivan was jumping right to it. He was so eager to help he was forgetting his place. Matthew was going to follow this through.

"I… I know some things. They may be very important. But I don't want to talk about it here. People will listen. Can we go to my hotel? After we talk I'd like to go to sleep finally."

Ivan nodded. He understood well enough. The rest of the discussion went rather quickly. It seemed the detective wasn't much for talking between bites. He was famished. Matthew couldn't complain though. The pancakes were good.

Ivan seemed awkward in the hotel room. The only place to sit was the bed. Which he sat on the edge as Matthew used the restroom. He was perusing the file when Matthew came back wearing nothing but a towel. Ivan had to stare down at the case.

"All my clothes are dirty, so they're having to get washed. I'm sorry if this makes you awkward, Mr. Braginski."

"No no, not at all." He was looking at Matthew and the boy heard the breath get sucked in. Matthew had let the towel slip.

"You're tense, Mr. Braginski. A busy man like you wouldn't have a lover at home, eh? I'm so sorry…. I know this is forward of me."

Matthew moved the file from the hands and put it to the floor not far off. His knees sank delicately to the carpet as his hands slid along the thick thighs. He could feel the muscle and, for a moment, it was hard to recall that this was business only.

"Matthew, I don't think you want-"

"Oh I do want, Mr. Braginski. You're handsome. An older man. And so intelligent. Those are my top requirements for a bed mate. So, Ivan, let me make us both more relaxed. Please?"

Matthew had pressed his face against a thigh while looking up at the detective. Their eyes met for a moment before Ivan looked to the side. The boy gave a delighted sound and undid the pants more quickly than he meant. He needed to pace himself. The man was wearing black box briefs. How mature. His fingers slipped the slit open and dug to pull the cock out. It wasn't all the way limp, which embarrassed him just a little, and he swallowed hard. To not be erect it was already sizeable. This was going to be a stretcher.

"Ivan… Yours is charming. Pity you aren't showing it to other people."

"I don't really have much ti- ah!" Ivan jerked when the fingers brushed the bit of head peeking out from the sleeve.

Matthew pinched the skin between finger and thumb and drew it back from the head. It caught behind the rim snugly and he smiled. The boy sucked on his own tongue to get more saliva before he put the tip in his mouth. He swirled it while pumping the shaft and smiled inwardly when Ivan gently placed his hand on the head. So gentle.

For a while he sucked and licked the head before bobbing along the shaft. Ivan's feet had planted themselves more firmly on the floor and his other hand gripped the bed. He was swelling in Matthew's mouth and the boy could feel that thick vein on the underside of his cock throbbing. It was good and firm now.

He drew his mouth back and heard the slight whine from Ivan. His hand kept pumping and he swallowed again, the beads of saliva trailing between his moist lips and the wet head of the thing in his hand. His fingers weren't touching. They couldn't close all the way around it. And that head. It'd pop in him and lock in his sphincter.

God, he wished this wasn't just business.

Ivan was gently tugging at his arms, pulling him onto the bed, and he heeded the man. He was on his back, pushing the gun holsters off, thankful they didn't discharge, and gave a yelp. His own shaft was grabbed and stroked as Ivan's mouth found his neck. The boy felt weak against it. He felt Ivan's hot mouth, his moist tongue sweeping across his neck, and those teeth clamping on the tight band of muscle. Stubble rubbed his skin and it helped to excite him even further. Already the ball of need in his stomach made him want to spill. Why was he so fast today?

"What do I put in you?"

"Your dick!" Ivan made an embarrassed sound and Matthew wondered why dick was the wrong answer.

"I meant…. I meant what to ease you. To help stretch you."

"Oh! Lube! I…. have lotion?" He hadn't expected to fuck anyone while in the states for the investigation. This had sort of come up.

The boy gestured to the stand by the bed at the tube of lotion he used on his feet. Alfred had always worried about the skin cracking so he always nursed them. Ivan stretched for it, hovering over Matthew, and reached it. He moved between the legs as he greased a finger and pressed it in. The boy whined and shuddered. He knew he was clean today. He had planned on this all night and bought an anal douche. During his shower he had stretched himself and checked just in case. He wanted this to be as pleasant as possible for the cop.

"Fuck! You're fingers are thick!"

"I'm a big man. Of course they're thick. Push again. I'm putting the second one in."

"Good God! A-Ah!" The boy was trembling. Ivan stroked his walls and found it. Matthew gave a wail when his weakness was pressed. His cock dribbled with precum and Ivan was stroking him again.

"You all right?"

"Yes! God, just put it in! Please please please!"

Ivan smiled to himself as he lathered the lotion on his shaft. It was greasy and he hoped to God there were no cuts on the boy's insides. Didn't want this stuff seeping in. He'd likely have to apply it again from time to time just to keep things easy. Well, that wasn't a problem.

"Raise your hips, Matthew."

"Why?"

"Just raise them."

Matthew did as told and blinked in confusion as something soft went under his ass and lower back. Ivan had folded a pillow and tucked it under just to raise the boy's rump. It'd make penetration easier. _You are truly a good man. Though a little corrupt to do this with a suspect's family member._ Matthew held his breath when he felt the head press to his entrance.

"Exhale and push, Matthew. I'm going to push in as far as I can go. Keep pushing against it."

Matthew dumbly nodded before he felt himself open. Slowly and slowly like a drawstring purse he felt the tight wrinkles expand to let the thing inside. He was pushing and pushing, forcing the muscles to relax, and finally he felt Ivan's movement stop as he hovered over him. The man was breathing hard already and shuddered at the sensation around his cock. Matthew began to breath, his ass burning from the intrusion, but otherwise there was no pain. He had been well stretched and lubed enough to hand this. Thank God he wasn't a virgin.

"Ivan… How deep are you? It- It feels like you're pressing everything." Matthew placed his hands on the arms by his head and kissed the man's jaw.

"A little over halfway. Want to me to move a bit?"

"Yeah. Just… go easy, okay? I've never had your size before."

Ivan laughed a little, making Matthew flustered, but he was so sweet about it that things had to be okay. It was a good slow withdrawal before he slid back into place. Matthew's body shifted with the movement and he sighed. That was a good pace. Ivan set himself to it, making short thrusts at a good slow tempo, and Matthew began to let himself go in it. He relaxed and Ivan gave a hefty grunt when he slid even deeper. Matthew arched and grabbed the shirt tight.

"Ah. There, Matthew?" Ivan's voice had the ringing of a taunt in it. Matthew shook his head to deny it. "Then you won't mind if I touch it again."

The man angled his hips again and thrust in to earn a cry from he boy. No longer was he thrusting slowly. He found a nice marching tempo and slammed himself in deep. Matthew's insides were stirring, electric jolts racing through him, and he cried. It felt bad. It felt good. It was a mixture of everything. He held onto Ivan, letting his legs wrap around the waist, and for once Matthew was really crying. Both bliss and worry, he was lost.

"Shhh. Let me…. Let me help you, Matthew. I want to!" Ivan's voice hitched with words as he thrust, sentences breaking, and the boy had to make his choice.

"My brother… he's an innocent! That Arthur… he… he-AH!" Matthew shook as the stirring grew worse. His toes curled and uncurled as he tried to hold back. Ivan kissed his neck and head, so close to him, and Matthew wondered what he was doing now.

"Keep going, boy. Don't stop."

_You're the one who shouldn't stop! God, it's so hard to focus! I don't need to tell him outright! I don't! I- I!_

"I did it I did it I did it! I killed him! But- but he hurt my brother! He- NNGH- he tortured him!"

"Don't hold back… Just let it go…" Ivan was sweating over him. Matthew kissed the neck to taste the sweat. Just to see if he was real or not.

Matthew was orgasming. His cock gave hard splurts onto his stomach and he felt his balls drop to a relaxed state. His body quaked as Ivan groaned over him. That aching heat spread in his ass as he felt the man give several hard jerks. He kept thrusting until in was over. Then finally withdrew. Ivan's fluids came with his cock and the man lay by him. Matthew didn't want to look at him, but the man caught his face and turned it to meet his.

"I know all that, boy. I can guess what that bastard did to your brother. I know what you did was out of love and, as a sibling, I would have too. Now the question is whether or not anyone else saw."

"Francis did. He had just bought Alfred."

Ivan was quiet for several moments and Matthew's face was wet from continuing tears. For a moment Matthew thought he saw the compassion of Christ in the man's face as he shut his eyes and opened them with a gentle smile.

"So where is he?"

"In his own home. A play room he built. I didn't kill him yet."

"Lets wash up and go, Matthew." Matthew winced and breathed deeply. How did he convince the man to not turn him in? Had the sex been enough?

"To jail?"

"No. I want him. Lets go wrap this up."

OOC: Hello guys and thanks for following this far along in connected. Grah, such horribly written sex. Yet, we're starting to tie things up. At most you have two chapters to go so don't give up on me! See you all in the next sequence!


	7. Sequence 7

The silence within the car followed them to the home. The residence hadn't changed at all from the outside, but Matthew tensed regardless. He led Ivan around the home to the back and slipped his hand under the potted plant by the door. Key between his fingers he glanced to the older man before slipping the key into the lock. The door opened, but it didn't creak like Ivan had expected it would. Meant the door hadn't been shut for too very long.

The were inside and the door was shut then locked. Ivan's eyes wandered the walls with its lovely images as they walked. In the kitchen was a door. Rather plain considering the gilded cabinets and lush wall patterns. Matthew swung the door open and went down a flight of stairs to the basement. The Russian was uneasy, but had to gather himself. Matthew was calm, though his muscles seemed drawn in and bunched. Like a cat ready to fight.

The basement was well spaced. A work station for painting and such, washer and dryer in the corner, and then various boxes stacked in a corner. Matthew went to the desk and fumbled under the edge until his fingers gripped a switch. The thing was pulled and Ivan jumped at the sound of what seemed like the walls breaking. Dust on the floor had been stirred and was slowly settling in the air. Matthew went to a bit of wall by the boxes and pressed against it. The wall swung inward and finally Ivan heard a new sound. Hoarse wailing. Like a keening dog who had its voice box snipped to keep it from yelping so much when fighting.

"Matthew- is that him?"

Matthew didn't respond to anything. He simply went on into the hidden room. There was a cot on the floor, shackles on the wall, and a toilet against a wall. In the center of the floor was a closed hook with a chain attached. The chain led to a shackle which led to the dirty and chaffed ankle of the blonde. The normally pristine man was filthy. His hair was stringy and clumped, his pale skin had little colour past the black grime caked on, and his clothes were soiled. Francies saw Matthew and gave out a cry, throwing himself back and away, but the sight of Ivan confused him even more. Why would the boy have brought someone?

"You've kept him here this entire time? God, we had dogs and everything looking for him. How did you find out about this room, Matthew?"

"When my brother went missing I began to track him down. I got to his dorm room and Arthur decided he wanted to full set. I'm not so trusting as my brother, so I sort of cheated."

"You were prepared."

"Yes. I was prepared."

Ivan looked at the man who studied him so intently. Matthew went to the other room and brought back a plastic water bottle and a chair for himself. Ivan could stand, but Matthew didn't really care enough to do anything. The bottle was tossed to the Frenchman who flinched, but greedily took the water. He drank deeply, his body shaking as he caught his breath afterward.

"Bonnefoy, I'm detective Braginski-"

"A detective? Dear God, thank God! Please, get me away from here! Please, he's insane!"

The blonde began to beg and weep, crawling and reaching for the man who stepped just out of range. The blue eyes didn't understand the motion.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Bonnefoy, but only under my terms. Otherwise I will leave your ass here to rot. You got me?"

The blonde nodded, quiet sobs racking his body, and Ivan felt disgust well in his heart. He wanted to kick this pitiful creature. To beat him down until he stopped making such horrid sounds. Yet he couldn't behave like that. It just wasn't done.

"Arthur Kirkland is dead and Alfred Jones is in jail. You and I both know Alfred didn't kill Kirkland. He doesn't deserve to be there."

"You're right. It was that one there who stabbed him the first few times! He sort of coerced his brother to stab him after he had stopped moving. Sort of like helping him to move on."

Matthew chuckled and Ivan shot him a look. This was no time for the boy's cynicism.

"Jones began to share a dorm room with Kirkland and for a while things were going well. How did you get involved?"

"He was part of the sex trafficking circuit here. He brought the boy to me in hopes that I could condition him if not buy him."

"So you drugged him and raped him."

"…yes. We took advantage of his trust. He was a very affectionate boy."

"What happened after that first time?"

"Well, we took photos of course. He couldn't afford to have that sort of shame exposed. So he became something like our pet."

"He was less a pet and more a slave!"

Matthew shouted so suddenly that both men jumped. Ivan went to him and placed his hand firmly on the boy's shoulder, eyes sternly focused on him, and he clicked his tongue.

"Be still, Matthew. We're having a discussion- Bonnefoy. After that first time you two kept using him?"

"Yes. We tried to train him without separating him too suddenly from day to day life."

"Yet he was brought here?"

"Arthur became concerned. His behavior changed so suddenly. It seemed he was spiraling into depression. Suicide would have likely happened. We had to keep him alive long enough."

"Long enough to earn a profit, Bonnefoy?"

"Every person has to earn a living. So what if we let young things like him experience the broad expanse of the world?"

"Your occupation led you somewhere too, didn't it? This room certainly seems a benefit now, huh? A perk?"

Francis silenced in frustration and finished his water. The voice was retraining itself. A little less hoarse now.

"When did things go wrong, Bonnefoy?"

"We had him down here and began to ease him into the lifestyle. His body was becoming accustomed to physical interaction and emotionally he had walled himself well enough to almost joke with us. Yet Arthur grew greedy. That boy visited the dorm looking for his brother. Arthur told him how his brother had moved to a new place with a boyfriend, but he'd be happy to show him where. When I got the call that the twin had shown up I was even more excited. Everyone loves twins. The price would hike to an incredible high."

"And so the boy was lured here."

"We showed him around and led him down to this room. We had prepared the chloroform and were going to knock him out after he saw. Some theatrics for fun, you know? When Arthur came up behind him the boy just turned and started stabbing. I ran to stop and, sad as it is, he took me down."

"You didn't fight?"

"I tried, but he had taken up the cloth you see. So I was out like a light."

More silence and Ivan shook his head. Things were piecing together. Finally. Yet he needed the final details.

"Matthew, what happened after that?"

"I got brother out of the cuffs by the bed. Arthur crawled up the stairs while I was taking care of him. Bro went after him. Bonnefoy was stirring and heard me tell him to end it. Make it better. Guess he didn't inhale enough of the Chloroform. So I set him up here while bro ended it."

"After that you took and hid the knife. Your brother was suspected because of his sudden appearance after being gone for so long. So now we have to completely finish this."

Francis swallowed as the large man came to him, fist grabbing into the filthy hair, grip sliding for a second from the amount of oils trapped in the strands, and the blonde gave a low moan of defeat.

"You want to live, Bonnefoy? You want to be safe from even the trafficking groups? You've exposed them. They'll have you killed if you leave here."

"What do I do? What can I do? Please, God, I'll do anything! Just don't! Don't kill me!"

"I want you to confess to the murder of Arthur Kirkland. The murder you committed. And I want you holding the weapon while you do it."

OOC: God, I haven't updated for a while now. I admit life has gotten a bit crazy here. I know that has nothing to do with writing, but losing a job and fighting to get another one has been crazy. Yet I've been successful in gaining a better job than I had and writing the next to lat chapter of this story. One more to go and we're done! Again, sorry for the tardiness of this, but now we're working! Look forward to seeing you guys for the final sequence!


	8. Sequence 8

The room was still buzzing. The press lined the back and several people from both college and the street filled the old building's largest room. His palms were sweating from where he sat in the front row with his brother. Matthew saw Alfred's red face and took his hand. He didn't even notice the sweat, but took the time to lace their fingers and squeeze the larger hand. The jury was making their decision off in another room. On Matthew's other side was Braginski, who had watched with extreme intensity.

Francis had gone three days ago up to the police department with a bloodied blade in his hands. He had cleaned up and wore his best as he threw it down on the desk. The secretary had almost screamed over it and he was quickly subdued. Since his arrest the police department had received several threats they thought related to the trafficking groups he aided. They'd kill him if the got the chance, so security was tight in and around the courtroom.

What was the decision going to be? The papers for some time had stated a young man was to blame, but now the people discovered the boy was merely a victim in the scandal. The press found the claim made by Bonnefoy to sound too incredible. Too thought out. Matthew had grinned as he heard it spoken aloud and felt his heart pounding.

"I killed Kirkland. Several times over he has broken deals with me and sold people of interest to me without my agreeing to it. I wanted this boy as mine. When I learned of his intentions I killed him. In the struggle the boy escaped me and I fled. Why I confess is of my own concern and not that of the press or court. Make your choice and set the time. Make it quick too, my suit is getting wrinkled in this thing you call a seat."

The courtroom had laughed at his theatrics and the press was stunned. Despite the confession at the beginning they still had to go through the ins and outs of the case. Alfred had been called to witness and for the first time since his disappearance students saw the boy. He had lost so much weight and his eyes were baggy. He seemed like a haunted man now. The press would take the great liberty to stress how the torment he went through has obviously broken him, and that should an question his innocence they need but look into his eyes.

He had stood before the courtroom and told the truth. He never lied as he was never asked about his brother. The story Francis provided had made it seem he fled when the door was opened and the men struggled, so Alfred ran with that. When Francis was brought forward for questioning he stated all he had said before in his confession to the police. Braginski was asked for police details in regards to the crime scene and statements made by various individuals. The court had handled this case seriously and as delicately as they could.

The jury was filing into their seats again. One after the other. Men and women of the city making a decision which could change the lives of many.

_Say it. Come on, fucking say it!_ Matthew squeezed Alfred's hand harder, eyes narrow. He wanted the verdict. He wanted this sweet Justice.

"We, the jury, have reached our verdict." A woman of the jury stood, paper in hand.

"State your verdict." The judge, an older man and a father, looked down at her. Braginski had worked to have this man over the trial. A father working a sex offense case was sure to work for a guilty verdict too.

"On counts of rape, human trafficking, illegal possession of drugs, and manslaughter we find the defendant, Francis A. Bonnefoy, guilty of al charges."

The people of the court were applauding. Francis shut his eyes with what seemed remorse before turning in his seat to look at the three just behind him.

Alfred was sitting like a saint and wouldn't make eye contact, Braginski nodded in approval at his performance, and Matthew was grinning. Bonnefoy wondered what would be done with the boy after this. The Canadian had done the murdering. Would he undergo therapy? No doubt Alfred would. A shame, really. He really had wanted the boy for himself.

Bonnefoy was led out of the courtroom and people began to exit out the back. Braginski and a few other men of the police helped Alfred and Matthew to an unmarked car away from the press. Questions were shouted even as Braginski climbed into the driver's seat and took off into traffic. For several minutes the car was quiet before Matthew started laughing. Alfred gave a confused sound and Bragisnki flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror.

"I can't believe it. This is perfect! Everything went just as it's supposed to!"

Matthew was exhilarated. He had succeeded in murder and the rescue of his brother. His twin was innocent and clean.

"Matthew, there's a catch in all of this. Especially in regards to you." Braginski stated without any tone of emotion. Such a flat sound.

"What catch, detective? I thought we understood each other."

"Oh, we do we do. It's just- I feel that you're not stable enough to go unchecked. I want you and Alfred to see a therapist."

"Fuck that, I'm stable-!"

"Brother, please. I saw you that night and I see you now. Please?" Alfred looked at the boy. Tired and feeble he didn't have the same strength. Yet his spirit seemed a might stronger than his twin's.

"All right. Therapy it is, brother. Anything else, Braginski?"

"I need you two to stay in one of our safe houses for a while. You've been seen by the press, which means the human market will know your faces. Know your names. So until things settle the FBI wants you hidden. I jerked those guys around and kept them off the case, so now I have to play bitch for a while and listen to what they have to say."

Braginski sounded bitter enough, so even Matthew believed him. Alfred pressed his head to the cool window and watched as rain began to fall. It was cleaning dirty streets. If he stood out in it would it clean him too?

_None of that, brother. You're perfect. Pristine. I took all that filth from you, so don't you fret._

Matthew's hand was on the other twin's shoulder, thumb rubbing circles as he looked at him. Alfred left the window and nestled against his smaller brother's chest. Matthew's eyes closed and he found himself drifting off to sleep. Braginski's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. His Bluetooth earpiece picked it up as he answered.

"You like them? It was a lot of hard work, but I'm sure you won't have any trouble out of them."

"Of course not. We're going to the safe house, so they'll be perfectly fine."

"I imagine your house would be safe, sir. Have you contacted the agency for me?"

"Yes. They know how everything was a stunt to bump Kirkland out. Just be patient. You'll be out of there soon."

"No problem. I'm being well taken care of, thanks to you, sir. Anyway, Bonnefoy out, sir."

Ivan sighed happily as the connection died. He had paid a lot of money for American twins. And this silly uniform. How lucky he was that the police force was so easily purchased. Airplanes roared overhead as he drew nearer to the airport. Back home with his American souvenirs.

Author's note: A big thank you to al those who followed me along the way. It has been fun writing this piece. I look forward to seeing you all in the next story. One has been published in the meantime and another is possibly in the works. Not related to _Connected_, of course. We're done here. So, thank you again and take care!


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